Read Online Secrets and Sins: Chayot: A Secrets and Sins novel (Entangled Ignite) by Naima Simone - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Naima Simone
Tags: Suspense, Romance, Mystery, serial killer, Kidnapping, Entangled, Ignite, nightmares, Chayot, Secrets and Sins, Naima Simone
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her eyes, she cleared her throat and retraced her steps to the island. Lifting her head, she didn’t flinch from Chay’s solemn, steady regard, and remained in her chair. Even as every fiber of her being screamed she fly around the huge table and bury her face in his strong, golden throat.
“All things considered,” she prattled. “I should be thankful to the Corn Husker Queen for saving me from becoming more intimately involved with a man I would’ve needed a full-body condom to fuck.”
“Corn Husker Queen?” He snickered.
She hiked a shoulder. “Apparently, the girl was a senior in some tiny high school and had been crowned Corn Husker Queen on her homecoming court.”
A loud crack of laughter caught her by surprise. To her astonishment, the sound originated from Chay. A wide grin curved his sensual mouth, and humor lit his eyes. Hell, his whole face. He was a beautiful man, no denying that. But in that moment—with his head thrown back and laugh lines creasing his cheeks—he was luminescent .
Oh man, he was dangerous.
Dangerous to her resolve. To her goals. To her…self-imposed celibacy.
“Why did you stay?” she whispered.
He studied her, and she withstood his scrutiny because she wanted— craved —to hear his answer.
“Because you wouldn’t ask me to.”
The air rushed out of her lungs, and her heart pounded against her rib cage, setting up a primal rhythm. While she’d struggled with her pride not to ask him to stay with her, to help her, he’d humbled himself—risked her rejection—to provide her with the comfort she’d so desperately needed.
“Chay,” she breathed, and leaning forward, she brushed her fingertips over his full bottom lip. The first intimate contact zinged up her arm and through her body like an electrical current. How a simple touch to his mouth could cause her nipples to tingle and harden, or the flesh between her thighs to moisten and pulse, amazed and confounded her. But she didn’t question it. She’d known him less then forty-eight hours, and he stirred her in ways no man ever had.
His eyes heated, darkened. The sensual curve flattened under her fingers, and preempting his rejection, she withdrew her hand.
Or tried to.
Chay grasped her wrist, his long fingers cuffing the slim bone. With a firm but gentle grip, he tugged her around the end of the island, not pausing until she stood between his thighs. Like a fever invaded her body, she shivered even as she burned. She inhaled him, his special scent that had no name, no identifying markers but reminded her of skin-against-skin, bodies-against-bodies, and sin. Not Adam-and-Eve sin, but sweet, sultry, whispers-in-the-dark sin.
As if he were a magnet and she metal, she leaned into him, shifted until her hips were wedged between his inner thighs. Until her breasts pressed against his chest, and the ache in her hard nipples increased and eased at the same time. She stared at the shallow dip in the center of his collarbone, revealed by the opening of his shirt. What would happen if she laid her lips there? If she tasted him? Would he stiffen? Push her away? With Chay she couldn’t tell…
But damn she wanted to find out.
So she did.
She lowered her head, swept her mouth over his tight skin. Traced the small bowl with the tip of her tongue. And moaned.
Yes, he tensed. His hands clutched her waist but exerted no pressure, as if uncertain whether to push her away…or draw her closer. Palms flat on his thighs, she pressed into him, savoring the dichotomy of hard to soft. Of planes to curves. She opened her mouth, drew his skin between her teeth, and suckled. His groan rumbled up his chest and vibrated over her breasts, adding another electrifying caress.
“Aslyn,” he growled. His hold on her waist tightened seconds before one hand gripped her hair and twisted the long ponytail around his fist a couple of times. He tugged, drawing her head back. Tiny bites nipped her scalp. Not enough to hurt, but enough to
“All things considered,” she prattled. “I should be thankful to the Corn Husker Queen for saving me from becoming more intimately involved with a man I would’ve needed a full-body condom to fuck.”
“Corn Husker Queen?” He snickered.
She hiked a shoulder. “Apparently, the girl was a senior in some tiny high school and had been crowned Corn Husker Queen on her homecoming court.”
A loud crack of laughter caught her by surprise. To her astonishment, the sound originated from Chay. A wide grin curved his sensual mouth, and humor lit his eyes. Hell, his whole face. He was a beautiful man, no denying that. But in that moment—with his head thrown back and laugh lines creasing his cheeks—he was luminescent .
Oh man, he was dangerous.
Dangerous to her resolve. To her goals. To her…self-imposed celibacy.
“Why did you stay?” she whispered.
He studied her, and she withstood his scrutiny because she wanted— craved —to hear his answer.
“Because you wouldn’t ask me to.”
The air rushed out of her lungs, and her heart pounded against her rib cage, setting up a primal rhythm. While she’d struggled with her pride not to ask him to stay with her, to help her, he’d humbled himself—risked her rejection—to provide her with the comfort she’d so desperately needed.
“Chay,” she breathed, and leaning forward, she brushed her fingertips over his full bottom lip. The first intimate contact zinged up her arm and through her body like an electrical current. How a simple touch to his mouth could cause her nipples to tingle and harden, or the flesh between her thighs to moisten and pulse, amazed and confounded her. But she didn’t question it. She’d known him less then forty-eight hours, and he stirred her in ways no man ever had.
His eyes heated, darkened. The sensual curve flattened under her fingers, and preempting his rejection, she withdrew her hand.
Or tried to.
Chay grasped her wrist, his long fingers cuffing the slim bone. With a firm but gentle grip, he tugged her around the end of the island, not pausing until she stood between his thighs. Like a fever invaded her body, she shivered even as she burned. She inhaled him, his special scent that had no name, no identifying markers but reminded her of skin-against-skin, bodies-against-bodies, and sin. Not Adam-and-Eve sin, but sweet, sultry, whispers-in-the-dark sin.
As if he were a magnet and she metal, she leaned into him, shifted until her hips were wedged between his inner thighs. Until her breasts pressed against his chest, and the ache in her hard nipples increased and eased at the same time. She stared at the shallow dip in the center of his collarbone, revealed by the opening of his shirt. What would happen if she laid her lips there? If she tasted him? Would he stiffen? Push her away? With Chay she couldn’t tell…
But damn she wanted to find out.
So she did.
She lowered her head, swept her mouth over his tight skin. Traced the small bowl with the tip of her tongue. And moaned.
Yes, he tensed. His hands clutched her waist but exerted no pressure, as if uncertain whether to push her away…or draw her closer. Palms flat on his thighs, she pressed into him, savoring the dichotomy of hard to soft. Of planes to curves. She opened her mouth, drew his skin between her teeth, and suckled. His groan rumbled up his chest and vibrated over her breasts, adding another electrifying caress.
“Aslyn,” he growled. His hold on her waist tightened seconds before one hand gripped her hair and twisted the long ponytail around his fist a couple of times. He tugged, drawing her head back. Tiny bites nipped her scalp. Not enough to hurt, but enough to
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